This Fragile Earth, Our Island Home

Poems leave footprints

I’ve been waiting for this day to arrive, the day that two of my poems are published in Sky Island Journal…. But first, I have a story to share.

Our island home (Credit: NASA)

Decades ago, I attended an Episcopal church. One of the priests was Rev. Kathy. Raised in the Southeastern U.S., Kathy had a lilting drawl that ebbed and flowed like aquamarine waves. When she read the liturgy, I listened more to the sounds than the words, finding great comfort in her voice. And when it came time for communion, she most often chose to read from Eucharistic Prayer C, which someone once called the Carl Sagan liturgy for its cosmic reverence in describing creation:

the vast expanse of interstellar space, galaxies, suns, the planets in their courses, and this fragile earth, our island home.

Fragile earth. Island home. I felt fragile in those days, and very much alone. The prayerful words washed over me, especially the way Kathy spoke them, lengthening the first syllable of fragile and island as though each were a long, flat shoreline sparkling in the morning sun.

These days, the earth feels equally fragile—too many disasters all at once and sadly, most of them of our own making. If I were suddenly transported to a tranquil gulf coast beach, I would probably walk for miles and miles as if it were my very own island home—not out of loneliness, however, but out of longing—a great desire to fill the vast expanse of universe with a light and love so powerful, everyone on our planet would stop long enough, look around, and wonder what we’re fighting for and why.

Instead, I’m at my desk in Albuquerque, thinking about you and leaving small footprints in the shape of words on my imagined beach. Sometimes, the words become poems.

And today, two of my poems, “Summer Sunday on the Rio Grande,” and “My Stepmother Was Born In Hiroshima,” are published in the latest issue, #27, of Sky Island Journal. It’s been a pleasure to correspond with the editors these last few months, and I encourage you to spend time with the other writers’ poems and stories published in this and earlier issues, online. Free to read without a subscription.

And if you’re curious about how Rev. Kathy figures into my my memoir, you may find answers here.

Thank you for reading. Though we may be in our separate worlds, this space is not an island. Words connect us. And I’d love to hear your words, your voice, on this shore.